Trancas Canyon
by BronteBroca
Summary: Despite being overqualified, Madli Abarrca, a thirty something MBA and attorney, takes a job as a personal assistant to a global superstar to escape her own life which has been turned upside down.
1. Arrival

It felt good to be disoriented. She caught glimpses of the unfamiliar, weary faces of her fellow travelers as she carefully pulled her carry-on bag from the overhead bin and set it down in the aisle. She could feel the impatience of the other passengers as they waited for the opportunity to take steps forward and exit the plane. Her legs felt weak and heavy as she shuffled past the premium economy seats then the business pods before finally moving through the spacious first class cabin.

It was the first time in months that she didn't feel the wave of sorrow pulling her under when she awoke from sleeping. For the last two months, since she had buried her father, she had been conscious of her emotions constantly flooding her mind. She walked around numb like a dam about to burst, always trying to stay ahead of the grief that could wash over her at any moment. When it hit, it was hard to recover from the uncontrollable feelings of grief that welled up inside and came pouring out of her in warm, salty tears.

She tried to muster a smile for the members of the flight crew who thanked her and waved to her as she stepped onto the jetway. Most of the flight attendants were Japanese with a couple of American flight attendants mixed in.

She had downloaded an app that was a quick guide to speaking Japanese. Originally, she didn't think she would need it since she was meeting her new employers immediately after she exited Customs. Moments before take-off from O'Hare Airport, the tour manager's assistant had texted her to say their flight from Barcelona had been delayed on a stopover in Miami so she would need to wait for them at the Tokyo airport until they arrived. So now it seemed downloading the language app had been a good idea after all.

The smell of jet fuel permeated the blast of cold air that seeped in from the small separation between the airplane and the jetway. Before she had taken two full steps, a man in a sport coat and baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes stepped forward.

"Madli Abarrca?" Even though it was said in a thick Japanese accent, hearing her name pulled her into reality just a bit. She nodded.

"Taro Yoshimoto. I am Tokyo undercover police." He flashed a credential that hung around his neck but it was in Japanese so she had no idea what it said. He could have been anyone. He sensed her hesitation.

"Jaan, requested I meet you. He is waiting for you."

Jaan was of course the bodyguard of her new employer who was it seemed equally as famous as their VIP boss. Madli had found Instagram pages and Pinterest boards dedicated to Jaan. There was also fan fiction about him on different sites. Jaan was famous for his cyborg green eyes and his seven-foot arm span. On one fan site, she had learned that Jaan was Estonian like her mother's side of the family. Unlike her father's side where the tallest Mexican men topped off at 5'11", her shortest Estonian cousin at least 6'3".

"I will take your bags.

"Thank you."

She swung her laptop and her carry on over her shoulder and handed them to Yoshimoto. She hadn't brought much. Just a couple of pairs of jeans, leggings, T-shirts, a fashionable hoodie, pajamas, travel size toiletries and a single pair of running shoes. The only item she had carefully packed were her underwear. She had made sure to pack a month's supply of clean, comfortable new underwear.

Just past the gate, an electric shuttle cart was waiting for them. Yoshimoto stepped aside and gestured toward the cart so she could climb up into one of the seats. He turned on a flashing light and they made their way through the crowds, parting the way until they reached an escalator that descended down to the baggage claim.

Madli was an expert packer. She had become one as a pre-teen when her parents divorced and the court ordered she and her siblings spend four days living with her mother and the other three with her father. Even though she was the youngest of three kids, it was Madli who organized their twice weekly moves between households. Clothing, toiletries, medications, textbooks, special items for bedtime. She also kept track of food in both houses so none of them would go without their favorite cereals or snacks.

True to his Mexican nature, her father, Gonzalo was not the Mr. Mom type. He had once confused Pine-Sol for cooking oil and made them scrambled eggs with chorizo for dinner. They had tried telling him but he wouldn't listen to their complaints. When he realized his mistake he had grabbed all of their plates and thrown them into the sink, shattering them into pieces then taken Madli and her siblings to McDonald's for dinner instead.

The truth was they dreaded their days with their Mom. She was an unhappy woman who scrutinized everything about them. It could be anything from their penmanship to their homework to what they wore to the dinner table.

It was hard to imagine Madli's mom Kersti had ever been happy or capable of being charmed by Madli's father. In better times, Madli and her siblings had heard the romantic story of how her parents met. Her father would recount meeting their mother with romance and nostalgia even though it was meaningless since they typically treated one another with complete disdain. Her father still carried an old black and white photo of his beautiful young wife in his wallet even though they hadn't spoken to one another in years.

As the story went, her parents had met on the lake front beach the summer when her Mom was only nineteen. She had just enrolled in junior college with plans of going to medical school. Her Dad was a few years older. His caramel skin, dark wavy hair, full lips and big dark eyes were very alluring to her. He also very charming, a great conversationalist and a flirt. They saw each other at the lake every Wednesday when her Mom didn't have classes.

Her father in turn, was obsessed with the lithe blonde with big amber eyes he saw sitting on the beach with her sisters. Finally, one Wednesday he made his move and struck up a conversation with her. The next Wednesday he kissed Kersti on the lips before jumping into the water. On the third Wednesday, he asked her out to dinner and picked her up in a white Porsche. He explained he had restored it himself at the auto body shop he owned with his brothers.

He was an impressive, ambitious, hard-working immigrant from Mexico with big dreams. He and his two brothers were saving capital to open another shop.

Gonzalo and Kersti were two ambitious, young people. Even though they were from different countries, they shared the immigrant experience. She was the child of exiled immigrants who had fled Estonia during World War II. Her father was a professor and their home outside Tallinn in the countryside had been taken over, occupied by both the Germans and the Soviets. Kersti was an infant when she arrived in Toronto with her family then later settled in Chicago. Gonzalo was an illegal immigrant who had run across the desert to the border with his brother Guillermo then worked as a farm laborer in Texas and the mid-west before finally making his way to Chicago.

Even though they had completely different backgrounds, Gonzalo and Kersti understood one another and their experiences. They respected one another's ambitions. They both had the American dream in their sights.

On their first dinner date, Gonzalo told Kersti he was going to marry her. Before they had dated for a full year, he had gifted her his white Porsche and upgraded himself to a newer model. After two years, she had completed her Associate's degree and they were married. Her bigger ambition of becoming a doctor was put on the backburner when she became pregnant with Gonzalo, Jr. and all of her ambitions were lost when six months later, she became pregnant with Madli's sister Liisa.

Throughout their childhoods Kersti was not fulfilled by motherhood. She woke up raging, resentful of the needs of her children and her responsibilities as the lady of the house. There were explosive arguments about Gonzalo's long work hours and singular focus on growing his successful business. On the nights when their mother locked herself in the guest room, quietly sobbing on Valium, their father took them out for dinner and a Disney movie. It was their mother who was erratic, who disappeared, who left them and went to stay with one of her sisters or ran off to another sister's in Toronto after yet another squabble with her husband.

After the divorce, Madli and her siblings complained to their father about their mother but the courts refused to judge Kersti's mothering or limit their mother's access to her children even though she raged at them in the morning and bullied them at night.

Madli had inherited ambition on both sides but it was this, her chaotic home life which motivated her to work every summer at a deli restaurant to earn money and apply to top universities. More than anything, she needed an escape away from the criticism and the miserable evenings at her Mom's. She wanted to live on her own, on her own terms and carve out the life she wanted for herself.

As Madli approached the passport desk, she noticed an infrared camera mounted on a tripod. Yoshimoto noticed her perplexed expression. "Infrared Thermoscanners. Look for fever and influenza."

It was then that the irony hit her, as she handed her passport to the formidable agent behind the desk. All these years later, she had thrown away her accomplishments and achievements. She had signed away her whole life, thrown herself into chaos by running away with a pop singer the way people had once ran away with the circus.

2

Madli's whole world had collapsed like a papier-mache globe. One day she was at the office worrying about the fall out from a one billion dollar settlement for consumer abuses the bank where she worked as an investment strategist had committed. Her offer on a penthouse condo in Wicker Park had just been accepted and she was obsessing over how the bad press might affect her business leads.

When escrow closed forty-five days later, her father was admitted into the hospital for pain and jaundice and she and her siblings were given the news that her father was being placed directly into the Palliative Care unit at the hospital. Seemingly the next day she was gathered around her father's bedside with her brother and sister. It was almost impossible to manage her father's end of life care with purchasing and moving into a home. Madli was on information overload and thought she might lose her mind.

So many friends and colleagues had described the inevitable passing of their septuagenarian and octogenarian parents with acceptance. They were sad but resigned when their parents inevitable left this earth. Her father, who had over the years become known as "Fast Gonzo" because of his relentless drive and work ethic, had not been ready to let go of life. He was still a youthful sixty-two-year old man when his Pancreatic cancer symptoms first appeared. At Christmas, he was not well. He was uncomfortable and complained of inexplicable abdominal pain. He put on a stoic front but didn't want to eat his usual holiday foods, surprising everyone by turning down the traditional tamales and pozole opting instead to pop Pepcid. When pressed by his children, he alluded to constipation.

The pain was finally severe enough that he asked Madli to find him a General Practitioner at the University Hospital. By then he was slightly jaundiced so he was referred to a specialist who immediately checked him into the hospital for two days worth of testing.

Madli took the hospital stay as a bad sign. There were no results the next day or the day following. By the end of the week, her Dad had developed jaundice. She felt mildly nauseated all day and struggled to compartmentalize her feelings. Three days later, on an afternoon where had let her guard down and was joking around with one of the loan underwriters about how desperately they needed the three day Martin Luther King weekend even though they had just had almost two weeks off at Christmas, her cell phone vibrated. It was her father.

"Mija, their telling me I have cancer! Can you believe it?"

She couldn't believe it. One day her father was fine and the very next day he wasn't.

"Do me a favor. Talk to the doctor."

Her Dad handed the phone straight to the doctor, who told Madli in no uncertain terms that her father had Pancreatic Cancer. She could tell by the doctor's measured words he was holding back. She immediately went into problem solving mode.

"Wow do we fix this?"

The doctor was silent. The rest of the conversation was blur. Madli marched straight to her office and Googled Pancreatic cancer. She spent the rest of the afternoon calling every major hospital, cancer center and research hospital in the United States. She took detailed handwritten notes of every conversation she had with countless patient care coordinators about their respective referral and in-take processes.

Later that day, her brother picked up their father from the hospital and drove him home. Madli left the office early and took an Uber straight to her childhood home, clutching the notepad that sat in her lap. Her father looked exhausted and had seemed to have aged five years over the course of a few days. He surprised Madli with his doubtfulness of his diagnosis by his American doctors. The next day, without a word to anyone, he hopped on a plane to Laredo, Texas then rented a car and drove himself across the border to Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. He checked himself into a small but modern hospital hoping for a more benign diagnosis like IBS or Celiac's Disease.

Suddenly the expatriate Mexican who had fled his home country without ever looking back, was nostalgic, sentimental and proud of the Mexican medical schools and their doctors. American doctors had abruptly become second rate. He recalled the time a few years ago when an acupuncturist was able to resolve his high cholesterol with Chinese herbs instead of pharmaceutical drugs that had plagued him with a short list of annoying side effects.

Madli's mother was of little comfort. Her words were sharp as always. She unnecessarily highlighted Gonzalo's struggles with his weight and reminded her daughter that Gonzalo had the disgusting habit of smoking in the bathroom every night after dinner. She also observed that Madli's father had worked at a dry cleaner when he first moved to Chicago then spent years inhaling the toxic chemicals at the auto body shop where he had started as the sweeper. Even as the owner of the multiple shops, Gonzalo had spent his days exposed to hazardous automotive products that contained petroleum and Benzene.

He returned a few days later from Mexico where the advanced testing of the hospital in Nuevo Laredo had duplicated the results of the hospital in Chicago. It was too late for surgery or chemotherapy. Her Dad was in excruciating pain and after only a couple of days at home with Madli, Liisa and Gonzo Jr. looking after him, he willingly returned to the university hospital where the American oncologist concurred with the Mexican doctors that it was too late for surgery or chemotherapy.

They were all – including her father, in shock. His pain was so terrible that after just two days in the hospital, the oncologist recommended her father be placed in the Palliative Care unit. It was a dismal day. Madli, Liisa and Gonzalo watched the inauguration of President-elect Trump's in their father's hospital room where he lay in bed on a hydromorphone drip for pain.

As she sat in the spartan wood framed chair next to her father's bedside, she was in disbelief at what was happening on the television and all around her. Reality television star Donald Trump was being sworn in as the 45th President of the United States and her father was dying. The morphine was making her Dad giddy. He had proudly voted for Trump and cheered as Trump placed his hand on the Bible.

Madli understood how Trump's raw Pancho Villa _machismo_ and showmanship, his "shoot first and ask questions later" bravado appealed to her father. He had always identified with Republican ideals of self-sufficiency and the right to bear arms. He had grown up in squalor in Mexico and used his own scrappiness and wit to survive. Stealthily drowning neighbors hens in neighborhood wells so he could eat them and building ramps across flooded walkways in Guadalajara so he could then charge pedestrians to keep their feet dry as they crossed the flooded streets of colonial city.

Gonzalo didn't trust career politicians or the religious leaders his mother had revered in Mexico. Priests at the Catholic church where they were parishioners, explained to him as a child that his family was poor because God loved them. This made no sense to him then or now. He saw Trump's raw attitude as that same grit that had helped him survive his childhood and succeed in the United States.

Her boyfriend Luke who was a Professor of Political Science at the University of Chicago, had a different way of explaining Trump's defeat of Hillary Clinton. He was both hilarious and astute as he explained Trump's popularity as a response to global immigration patterns and a base fear that once the gun rights of Americans became limited, socialism would inevitable take over the country.

Luke had been noticeably absent since her father's diagnosis. With Trump's election, Luke's field of study of how group influence shaped politics was a trending topic. He was being asked to present papers at universities all over the country and political science associations were asking him to guest lecture. He had even gotten a couple of phone calls from NPR and nightly news shows asking him to appear as a guest commentator. This week, he was in in London for a meeting with an NGO funded by DFID to map out areas of conflict in Baghdad during the parliamentary elections in the spring.

The time difference between London and Chicago made it difficult to reach him. He had posted selfies from his flight on Instagram including one with a Golden Retriever occupying the seat next to him. On Facebook, she saw pictures he had taken of the Parliament buildings accompanied by his usual witty remarks. Other than that, she hadn't heard from him.


	2. Fast Gonzo

Madli's whole world had collapsed like a papier-mache globe. One day she was at the office worrying about the fall out from a one billion dollar settlement for consumer abuses the bank where she worked as an investment strategist had committed. Her offer on a penthouse condo in Wicker Park had just been accepted and she was obsessing over how the bad press might affect her business leads.

When escrow closed forty-five days later, her father was admitted into the hospital for pain and jaundice and she and her siblings were given the news that her father was being placed directly into the Palliative Care unit at the hospital. Seemingly the next day she and her siblings, Gonzalo, Jr. and Liisa were gathered around her father's bedside. It was almost impossible to manage her father's end of life care with purchasing and moving into a home. Madli was on information overload and thought she might lose her mind.

So many friends and colleagues had described the inevitable passing of their septuagenarian and octogenarian parents with acceptance. They were sad but resigned when their parents inevitable left this earth. Her father, who had over the years become known as "Fast Gonzo" because of his relentless drive and work ethic, had not been ready to let go of life. He was still a youthful sixty-two-year old man when his Pancreatic cancer symptoms first appeared. At Christmas, he was not well. He was uncomfortable and complained of inexplicable abdominal pain. He put on a stoic front but didn't want to eat his usual holiday foods, surprising everyone by turning down the traditional tamales and pozole opting instead to pop Pepcid. When pressed by his children, he alluded to constipation.

The pain was finally severe enough that he asked Madli to find him a General Practitioner at the University Hospital. By then he was slightly jaundiced so he was referred to a specialist who immediately checked him into the hospital for two days worth of testing.

Madli took the hospital stay as a very bad sign. There were no results the next day or the day following. By the end of the week, her Dad had developed jaundice. She felt mildly nauseated all day and struggled to compartmentalize her feelings. Three days later, on an afternoon when she had let her guard down and was joking around with one of the loan underwriters about how desperately they needed the three day Martin Luther King weekend even though they had just had almost two weeks off at Christmas, her cell phone vibrated. It was her father.

"Mija, their telling me I have cancer! Can you believe it?"

She couldn't believe it. One day her father was fine and the very next day he wasn't.

"Do me a favor. Talk to the doctor."

Her Dad handed the phone straight to the doctor, who told Madli in no uncertain terms that her father had Pancreatic Cancer. She could tell by the doctor's measured words he was holding back. She immediately went into problem solving mode.

"How do we fix this?"

The doctor was silent. The rest of the conversation was a blur. Madli marched straight to her office and Googled Pancreatic cancer. She spent the rest of the afternoon calling every major hospital, cancer center and research hospital in the United States. She took detailed handwritten notes of every conversation she had with countless patient care coordinators about their respective referral and in-take processes.

Later that day, her brother picked up their father from the hospital and drove him home. Madli left the office early and took an Uber straight to her childhood home, clutching the notepad that sat in her lap. Her father looked exhausted and seemed to have aged five years over the course of a few days. He surprised Madli with his doubtfulness of his diagnosis by his American doctors. The next day, without a word to anyone, he hopped on a plane to Laredo, Texas then rented a car and drove himself across the border to Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. He checked himself into a small but modern hospital hoping for a more benign diagnosis like IBS or Celiac's Disease.

Suddenly the expatriate Mexican who had fled his home country without ever looking back, was nostalgic, sentimental and proud of the Mexican medical schools and their doctors. American doctors had abruptly become second rate. He recalled the time a few years ago when an acupuncturist was able to resolve his high cholesterol with Chinese herbs instead of pharmaceutical drugs that had plagued him with a short list of annoying side effects.

Madli's mother was of little comfort. Her words were sharp as always. She unnecessarily highlighted Gonzalo's struggles with his weight and reminded her daughter that Gonzalo had the disgusting habit of smoking in the bathroom every night after dinner. She also observed that Madli's father had worked at a dry cleaner when he first moved to Chicago then spent years inhaling the toxic chemicals at the auto body shop where he had started as the sweeper. Even as the owner of the multiple shops, Gonzalo had spent his days exposed to hazardous automotive products that contained petroleum and Benzene.

He returned a few days later from Mexico where the advanced testing of the hospital in Nuevo Laredo had duplicated the results of the hospital in Chicago. It was too late for surgery or chemotherapy. Her Dad was in excruciating pain and after only a couple of days at home with Madli, Liisa and Gonzalo Jr. looking after him, he willingly returned to the university hospital where the American oncologist concurred with the Mexican doctors that it was too late for surgery or chemotherapy.

They were all – including her father, in shock. His pain was so terrible that after just two days in the hospital, the oncologist recommended her father be placed in the Palliative Care unit. It was a dismal day. Madli, Liisa and Gonzalo watched the inauguration of President-elect Trump in their father's hospital room where he lay in bed on a hydromorphone drip for pain.

As she sat in the spartan wood framed chair next to her father's bedside, she was in disbelief at what was happening on the television and all around her. Reality television star Donald Trump was being sworn in as the 45th President of the United States and her father was dying. The morphine was making her Dad giddy. He had proudly voted for Trump and cheered as Trump placed his hand on the Bible.

Madli understood how Trump's raw Pancho Villa _machismo_ and showmanship, his "shoot first and ask questions later" bravado appealed to her father. He had always identified with Republican ideals of self-sufficiency and the right to bear arms. He had grown up in squalor in Mexico and used his own scrappiness and wit to survive. Stealthily drowning neighbors hens in neighborhood wells so he could eat them and building ramps across flooded walkways in Guadalajara so he could then charge pedestrians to keep their feet dry as they crossed the flooded streets of the colonial city.

Gonzalo didn't trust career politicians or the religious leaders his mother had revered in Mexico. Priests at the Catholic church where they were parishioners, explained to him as a child that his family was poor because God loved them. This made no sense to him then or now. He saw Trump's raw attitude as that same grit that had helped him survive his childhood and succeed in the United States.

Her boyfriend Luke who was a Professor of Political Science at the University of Chicago, had a different way of explaining Trump's defeat of Hillary Clinton. He was both hilarious and astute as he explained Trump's popularity as a response to global immigration patterns and a base fear that once the gun rights of Americans became limited, socialism would inevitable take over the country.

Luke had been noticeably absent since her father's diagnosis. With Trump's election, Luke's field of study of how group influence shaped politics was a trending topic. He was being asked to present papers at universities all over the country and political science associations were asking him to guest lecture. He had even gotten a couple of phone calls from NPR and nightly news shows asking him to appear as a guest commentator. This week, he was in in London for a meeting with an NGO funded by DFID to map out areas of conflict in Baghdad during the parliamentary elections in the spring.

The time difference between London and Chicago made it difficult to reach him. He had posted selfies from his flight on Instagram including one with a Golden Retriever occupying the seat next to him. On Facebook, she saw pictures he had taken of the Parliament buildings accompanied by his usual witty remarks. Other than that, she hadn't heard from him.


	3. Chicken

It was hard to believe she was in Tokyo. She may as well have been on Mars. Just last week she was temping at a mortgage office answering phones. The week before that she had been at a doctor's office. When she showed up for these entry level jobs, she was cautious not to be too efficient or too knowledgeable because it brought on questions. The last thing she wanted to do was explain that she was actually an MBA, a CFA as well as an attorney licensed to practice in four states who up until a few months ago was managing a portfolio where the minimum deposit was five million dollars.

Madli had taken a six week long Compassionate Leave after her father's initial diagnosis so she was under pressure to go back to work the day following the funeral. In her year at the private bank, she had grown the portfolios of her clients as well as performing for the bank's bottom line. The pressure wasn't just coming from senior executives, there was also the pressure created by her competitive colleagues who had spent the last month and a half vying for her accounts.

On the morning of her first day back at the office she was overcome by the same sensation she had after the adrenaline of the funeral had worn off. Sitting in an early morning markets meeting, Madli listened to, Bonnie Marshall-Freeman - the Senior Vice President, deliver some grim news. Their brokerage division had received yet another multimillion dollar civil fine for misconduct. As Madli listened to Bonnie's silky voice, she felt the conference room table swaying as if she were on a boat. Madli did her best to stay focused and not betray the spinning she was feeling.

As the topic shifted, she closed her eyes and took a deep, long inhale through her nose. She snuck in another between the words of one of her colleagues, an expert in Biotechnology stocks, who shared news of a pact between a leading protein engineering company and a pharmaceutical giant which would send the stock of the former soaring.

Madli thought her moment had gone unnoticed but as the meeting concluded, Bonnie made eye contact with her across the conference room table. Bonnie was a fiftysomething mild mannered Canadian known for quietly getting rid of strategists who were not, as she liked to say, "earning their bread." Bonnie had paid her dues. She started her career in banking as a teller then becoming a bank manager before moving into wealth management when women were not welcomed into the club with open arms. When the meeting concluded, Bonnie made direct eye contact with Madli.

"Let's walk and talk."

"Sure."

Bonnie had a signature look - Chanel cropped blazers and jackets in every shade of pink with skinny jeans and designer shoes. Madli's colleauges joked that Bonnie's preferred color palette was a calculated and deliberate attempt to soften her formidable personality. Today, Bonnie had accessorized her tweed jacket with a strand of knotted pearls that made a clacking sound as she led Madli to her corner office which was enclosed by three glass walls. This modern architectural feature was unique, but unfortunate for anyone who was called to sit in front of Bonnie.

Madli felt like she was climbing into the dentist's chair as she took a seat across from Bonnie's desk. Bonnie stood with her back to Madli, simultaneously looking through files on her credenza and firing off texts on her cell phone. Madli's mind wandered to the movers who were arriving at her apartment any minute now to pack up her belongings and transport them to her new condo in Wicker Park. She hadn't been to her new home since the day of the inspection. Tonight, after what would undoubtedly be at least a twelve-hour day, she would pick up Chicken, her English Bulldog from the boarding facility where Luke had dropped him off. Luke was serving as an expert witness in a voter fraud case and had flown to New York on the morning of her father's funeral.

Bonnie finally set her phone down and took a seat behind her textured Shagreen desk that resembled sharkskin.

"So. How are you doing?"

Bonnie's concern was accented by a sharp tone. Her faint Canadian accent was still perceptible.

"I'm hanging in there."

Madli didn't sound convincing, even to herself. She fought the urge to purse her lips which made her face contract awkwardly. Bonnie seemed to look right through her.

"I remember when I was about your age, a lot of sad life things started to happen."

Madli knew instinctively this wasn't a bonding "girl talk" so she let Bonnie continue without interjecting.

"We all have obstacles in our life. How we overcome them or work around them defines who we are as people. We need to be able to cope and survive."

Madli knew Bonnie was right but it was too soon for her boss's workplace platitudes.

"Don't you agree, Madli?"

Madli's mind raced as she searched for a response absent of feelings. She took Bonnie's words for the warning that they were: adapt and perform or be replaced by a more resilient cog in the wheel.

In an effort to give Bonnie the response she was seeking, Madli put in a fourteen hour day. She ordered sushi and ate it at her desk while she pored over data and analyzed it.

It was almost midnight when she and Chicken crossed the threshold of their new home for the very first time. Madli felt a small smile spread across her face as she watched Chicken lumber through the entryway and into the living room sniffing the labelled, packing boxes.

"What do you think big guy? It's our new home."

Chicken wandered over to their sectional by the chaise and sniffed near the spot where his dense body had left a permanent depression. His curiosity was short lived. Madli watched as Chicken went from sniffing the packing boxes to a state a confusion and then anxiety. He started panting and in an instant he was on the floor convulsing. His mouth twisted painfully as his muscular body spasmed.

Madli shrieked as she climbed over boxes to get to him. She scooped up his 68-lb body as best as she could and held him in her arms. Finally, his body relaxed. She looked into his eyes and stroked his wrinkled face, trying to stay calm. She used her blouse to wipe the foam off of his mouth. He had lost control of his bowels but she didn't care. She needed to get to her phone so she could find a veterinary emergency room that was open.

Lifting Chicken was a struggle. The muscles in her lower back tensed up painfully as she hefted him off the hardwood floor then carried him down the hallway to the elevator. She bent her right leg at the knee and held it against the glimmering elevator wall to support his body as the elevator descended to the lobby. When the doors slid open, she groaned as she carried him into the lobby, peering out the windows looking for her Uber. Finally, she saw a pair of headlights slowly approaching the building. She used her fingers to pull open the front door. She wedged her foot in at the bottom then used her whole body to throw the door open completely.

Madli's feet crunched in the snow as she approached the car. Her breath frosted the air as she yelled to the driver.

"Can you please open the door for me?"

The Ethiopian driver looked over his shoulder and rolled down the window.

"Is that a dog?"

"Yes. Can you help me with the door?"

The driver's tone was sharp.

"No dogs in my car."

She felt her grip on Chicken's body loosening. He grunted a little as she bent her knee again and leaned him up against the cold car.

"He'll sit on my lap. Please. I need to get him to the emergency room. I'll give you a hundred dollar tip."

"Okay, but he cannot be on the seat."

Madli nodded emphatically. The driver jumped of the car and came around to open the door for her.

Once she was in the car, Madli immediately dialed Luke. It was the middle of the night in New York but she was hopeful he would answer. She wasn't completely surprised when he didn't. She looked down at Chicken's vacant eyes and kissed him on the forehead. His breathing was labored but she took comfort in the fact that he was breathing at all.

When she arrived at the animal hospital, Chicken was placed on a gurney by a veterinary technician and taken to the back to be examined by a vet. Madli texted Luke as she stood at the front desk of the austere lobby filling out forms. When she was done, she took a seat in an uncomfortable chair. After a few minutes, a stocky, bearded man in scrubs emerged from the back. He was carrying an iPad.

"Hi, are you here with Chicken?"

"Yes."

"Hi, I'm Dr. Stumpp. Why don't we go talk in a room?"

Madli took this invitation as a bad indication. Her mind raced as she followed the doctor into a small exam room decorated by a portrait of a happy, healthy dog. Madli couldn't help but jump in with a question.

"Was that an epileptic seizure he had?"

"No. It was a grand mal seizure."

"Grand mal?"

"Yes. Grand mal seizures are typically caused by abnormal electric activity in the brain."

"Oh…"

The doctor switched the iPad from one hand to another without looking at it.

"In any case, while we were examining Chicken, he suffered another seizure. I'm imagining it was like the one that you saw at home."

Madli had to stop herself from falling apart.

"Without taking X-rays or doing an MRI, I can't tell you for certain what is causing the seizures. It's most likely a brain tumor but the bottom line is, Chicken's brain is most likely very swollen and as a result he is severely incapacitated."

"Can you treat him for that?"

"We can but honestly his quality of life will be severely compromised." The doctor's words sunk in like an anchor hitting a rock under water. Madli could taste her own warm, salty tears as they ran down her face.

"I feel so bad. He's been at the doggie daycare a lot lately. Could that have stressed him out and caused this?"

The doctor shook his head. "Not to this degree."

Madli could barely speak.

"I can't believe this is happening. I don't want him to suffer."

"I'll have the techs bring him out to a room where you will be more comfortable?"

She nodded in acknowledgment.

A few minutes later, the doctor escorted Madli to a dimly lit room where Chicken was wrapped in a towel and laying on a naugahyde couch. He was barely conscious as Madli crouched down to kiss his face and touch his leg where they had inserted a catheter.

Madli shuddered and sobbed when Dr. Stumpp returned with two syringes full of drugs that would bring Chicken's life to an end. Madli knew that when it was all over, she would not spend the night at her new condo or return to the office in the morning. She knew Bonnie was right about people being defined by how they handled adversity. Madli didn't know what exactly this meant about herself, but right now she didn't care.


	4. Spin & Win

It was dinner time in Tokyo but Madli's body had no idea what time it was. She had eaten a sandwich on the plane hours ago. She was slightly nauseated from the smell of cigarettes which she had become unaccustomed to because so many places in Chicago were smoke free. She wanted nothing more than to go into the mini mart inside the terminal to get some crackers and a Sprite but she was already aware that she was officially on the clock and her time was not her own anymore.

A faint grin spread across Yoshimoto's face as he stared about a hundred yards in front of them. It was the first time he had shown any emotion.

"There he is."

Yoshimoto pointed and waved at Jaan whose eyes gleamed like lasers that had been activated by recognizing Yoshimoto's familiar face. Yoshimoto smiled sardonically as Jaan strode toward them.

"He is monster."

With his shaved head and nearly seven foot frame, Jaan did in fact look like an android.

Yoshimoto came to life as he and Jaan exchanged a hearty bromance style handshake. Madli craned her head up to meet her new colleague's gaze.

"Tere."

A look of surprise spread across Jaan's face as Madli greeted him in Estonian.

"You speak Estonian?"

"Yes. My mother is Estonian."

"So your name is _Mahdli_ he said pronouncing it correctly. She had grown up in the suburbs of Chicago being called _Madly_ like madly in love or truly, madly, deeply.

"Väga hea."

Madli recognized his interjection to mean, "very good." She hoped that he wouldn't continue speaking in Estonian because she in truth she was far from fluent and her vocabulary was limited to what she called, "kitchen Estonian." She was relieved when Jaan continued in English.

"Fiori's flight was delayed by a storm so they are not here yet. I've been on vacation for two weeks so I flew in separately last night to meet them. 'V' called me. She said you would be a lost lamb on your own here in Tokyo. I called Taro to meet you." Madli gazed at her completely foreign and surprisingly quiet surroundings. Even the ATM machines with their vivid graphic displays and extra slots, looked alien to her.

"I would have been lost."

"I am going to take you to Fiori's motorcade."

"Okay."

She followed alongside Jaan, doing her best to keep pace with his long strides. With every step, the sound of screaming fans who had been cordoned off at the end of the arrival terminal escalated. The wailing reached a fever pitch when the hundreds of fans spotted Jaan. The terminal was overcome by a hysteria the likes of which Madli could never have imagined. Airport security fought to hold back the fans who lunged forward and blindly raised their cell phones to capture Jaan's movements.

As Madli, got closer she could see that many of the fans were dressed up to look like Fiori from her different incarnations going back to her early career. Some fans wore outrageous blonde wigs while others had boldly slipped into skintight, sheer jumpsuits accessorized by knock-offs of her trademark platform boots. One young male fan who had secured a position up front, boldly stood amongst the others in a dress made of meat.

The gasps and screams of the hundreds of fans gathered outside hit Madli like a sound wave as she stepped through the sliding glass doors behind Jaan. White gloved airport police officers struggled to keep the crowd under control as Jaan escorted Madli to a caravan of shiny black luxury SUVS parked at the curb. From what she could tell, the whole terminal had been shut down for Fiori's arrival.

The shrieking hysteria broke off and shrugged its way to an abrupt and disappointed end when the eyes of the fans came to rest on Madli pulling her roller bag behind Jaan's towering figure. A delicate, doe-eyed female driver hopped out of the front of the third SUV and came around the car with an exaggerated smile frozen on her face. She bowed from the waist when she greeted Madli.

"Nihon e Youkoso."

Madli smiled back at the driver then climbed into the back of the SUV. The plush leather seat was far more comfortable than her cramped airplane seat. She was utterly exhausted. She had been to Europe and to Greece but the flight from Chicago to Tokyo had really taken a toll on her thirty-six-year old body. Maybe it was because this was not a vacation. There were no bike tours, restaurants recommended by friends or shopping to look forward to. She would be performing the most menial of tasks. Buying tampons, walking dogs and packing suitcases were just a few of the tasks outlined for Madli at her second interview.

It was her best friend Jill, a high powered music agent in Los Angeles who had put her up for the job. Jill was a self-made success story from a small Indiana township known for having two time zones. Madli had met Jill in business school before Jill quit halfway through the first semester to move to New York City to manage a Ska band. By the time Madli was out of business school, Jill had built a full-fledged music management firm with an impressive client roster. Ten years later, Jill was the head of the music division at a mega talent agency in Beverly Hills that represented the biggest names in music – including Fiori.

The day after her father's funeral, Jill had persuaded Madli to fly back to Los Angeles with her. It was rainy and dismal but she spent the week being pampered by Jill and her husband Jesse. They cooked for her and booked spa treatments at a neighborhood wellness center. They also dragged her to Pilates, Spinning and yoga where Madli lost control of her emotions and cried her way through the classes.

When Madli returned to Chicago, she needed something to do with herself that didn't involve second guessing decisions she made about Chicken or erasing her father's life by wrapping it all up into cardboard boxes and file folders. By the end of the week, Madli was signed up with four temp agencies. She accepted entry level jobs across Chicago where she quickly learned productivity was not necessarily valued. To fill the hours at her temp job, she registered for radio show contests even voting daily on some sites for the chance to "spin and win cash." To keep track of all the contests, she created spreadsheets to manage her activity. One afternoon she emailed the spreadsheet to Jill as a joke. A few minutes later, Madli's cell phone rang. It was Jill.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm temping at a law firm today."

"That's not what I mean. You need to move forward."

Jill's words were like cold water on Madli's face.

"I'm grieving."

"You can grieve and still move forward."

Madli searched for a response that wouldn't escalate their conversation into an argument. Madli could hear Jill quickly type a few keystrokes her computer keyboard before continuing.

"I have a job for you. You've heard of Fiori?"

"The singer?"

"Yes. She's one of my clients. She's in a free fall and her team is imploding. Her father just fired her manager for licensing her name without permission in the Middle East and Brazil. Her second assistant quit during a flight to Azerbaijan. They sat there ignoring one another in first class for ten hours then when they arrived, the assistant let Fiori get into the wrong town car on the tarmac. The one before her one was carried out of Fiori's birthday party for being drunk and disorderly. And the one before that was fired for hitting on one of her song writing collaborators."

"This is why she's in free fall?"

"No. Look, it may be too soon for you to hear this but I'm going to say it anyway. Fiori's husband committed suicide. It happened while your Dad was in the hospital."

"Oh my god. How awful."

"She's a mess. I need you in there. I need someone I can trust, that she can trust, to help manage her while she's promoting her new album."

Jill's request was indeed a big one but Madli knew it was time to move forward in some way. Getting out of her childhood home and escaping to where she wouldn't recognize anyone or anything might be just the way to do it.


	5. Caravan

Madli could tell by watching the hundreds of bristling fans that her new VIP boss must be approaching. Even at a distance, their energy felt like a rush of water that finally burst when Jaan appeared towering over the crowd. The fans frantically held up their phones blindly shooting in Jaan's direction. Japanese airport security, who were kneeling at the foot of the crowd to hold back the mass of fans, toppled forward onto their hands as the mob lurched forward uncontrollably.

Jaan and the two other bodyguards who accompanied him appeared to be doing a frustrated, halting dance as they fought their way through the crowd. The three of them were all surrounded by a ring of Japanese police officers who struggled against the tide of hysteria. In the middle of them all strode the woman whose name was being invoked by countless frenzied voices.

Fiori was the embodiment of glamorous cool in a vintage designer gown and chic sunglasses. She shuffled along, smiling at her fans with Jaan shielding her from countless outstretched, longing hands. At the very edge of the crowd, Jaan stepped away from Fiori, carefully angling his body to give her just enough access to her fans so she could indulge a lucky few in their request for selfies.

Once Fiori was done, Jaan took her arm gently at the elbow and whisked her away to the safety of a glistening black Rolls-Royce Phantom. Seconds before the sedan pulled away, Fiori rolled down her window and blew kisses to her fans.

"Aishiteru! Aishiteru!"

Long after the tail lights of the Rolls had disappeared into the night, the fans continued to scream. Moments later, the driver slid open the doors to the Sprinter van where Madli was waiting. In climbed a cadre of people. They all looked tired and pale as they stepped into the van, hoisting their carry-on bags. Each one of them looked politely in her direction as they settled into their seats. Then, as if on cue, they all pulled out their phones and began absentmindedly scrolling and typing.

What none of them knew was that Madli had already done her due diligence on social media. Each one of them had Facebook fan pages, Instagram accounts and Pinterest pages dedicated to their respective careers and roles in Fiori's life. It was Carlo, Fiori's long time hairdresser, dating back to her days as an NYU dropout living on the Lower East Side of New York City, who smiled warmly at Madli and extended his hand.

"Hi. You must be the new second assistant."

Madli nodded. "I'm Madli. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Carlo."

Carlo pointed to an apricot toy poodle in a Sherpa bag. "And this is Monster."

Carlo was about Madli's age and dressed head to toe in black leather. His openness seemed to set the tone for everyone else. One by one, they all offered weary smiles and introduced themselves. Eyelle was Fiori's fortysomething physical therapist from Hoboken, New Jersey. She had a blonde pixie cut and a firm handshake.

Santina, a tough and fit looking young woman with full sleeve tattoos on one arm, looked up from her phone.

"Santina. Massage department."

Yuri was Fiori's beautiful Japanese nail artist and Talia, the sexy blonde, was the traveling Pilates and yoga instructor. Mona, a striking African American woman with luminous skin, was of course Fiori's aesthetician. Hannah Chirgwin climbed on board dragging what looked to be a hundred pound make-up case on wheels behind her. Madli had found articles on her in _People_ and _InStyle_ magazines. "Chirgwino" as she was affectionately referred to by her colleagues, was the visionary behind Fiori's show stopping looks as well as her partner in her cosmetics line. She was a hearty Minnesotan with rosy cheeks decked out in grunge attire. She collapsed into her seat and absentmindedly popped a piece of gum into her mouth without even noticing Madli. She sighed as she stared blankly out the window.

Carolina was the last of the crew to jump on board. Madli had checked out her Instagram as well as her videos on Tik Tok. She was a young Latina from Los Angeles's suburban San Fernando Valley who assisted Fiori's stylist Patrick Heddaeus.

Everyone but the woman who had hired Madli was on board. "V" was Fiori's primary assistant and the COO of the whole operation. Everybody, including the security team answered to her. The only person exempt to V's direction was Fiori's formidable father who acted as CEO and CFO to his famous daughter. Madli cleared her throat and posed a question to no one in particular.

"Will "V" be in our vehicle?"

Carlo looked over at Madli and spoke softly.

"No, she stays behind to deal with the luggage and the luggage transport company."

Madli had never heard of a luggage transport company but she nodded at Carlo as if she had.

"Oh, right."

The sky was dark by the time the caravan left the airport for the hotel. For all Madli knew, she could have been driving on the Chicago Skyway into downtown. The cars on the freeway were smaller and brands she couldn't identify but the concrete bridges, unsightly overpasses and lattice power transformer towers looked the same as they did at home. As they approached the city center, the Tokyo skyline took on its own distinct personality. The Tokyo Tower burned in the night like a rocket ready for take-off and Mt. Fuji lay in the distance like a sleeping giant.

It was no surprise that Fiori's fans were still lined up on the street outside the hotel even though she must have arrived close to an hour ago. Madli's stomach grumbled as she climbed out of the van and followed her new colleagues into the lobby of the hotel.

Not having any instructions from V, Madli followed the crew to the registration desk which had a queue of corporate types waiting to check in. They reminded her of people she used to work with on a daily basis. When it was her turn at the desk, she presented her passport to the attendant. Magically, everything had been taken care of for her and the man behind the desk graciously presented her with a room key.

It was a tight squeeze in the elevator. Carolina smiled at Madli as she backed further into the lift so that Madli could squeeze in with her bag. Except for the sounds of their respective sighs and yawns, they rode up the elevator in silence trickling off on different floors to their respective rooms. Madli, Carlo and Monster were the last ones left on the elevator. Madli felt a like an awkward teenager when the elevator stopped and she stepped out right behind Carlo.

"You're on the eighth floor too?"

Madli nodded.

Carlo yawned as he quickly studied the hotel directional signage plaque off the elevator.

"I'm down here."

Madli was relieved to know her room was in the opposite direction.

"My room is on the other side."

Carlo spoke in a sing-song voice.

"Goodnight."

Madli sighed with relief as soon as she walked into her room. She grabbed one of the two red apples from the stoneware plate artfully placed on the small workstation in front of the floor to ceiling window. There was nothing she wanted more than to soak off the long flight but she feared the moment she stepped into the tub, would be the moment V called or texted with her first task.

Instead of indulging in a hot bath, Madli took a quick shower. She left her phone on the tank of the electronic toilet, where she could keep a careful eye on it. Fifteen minutes later, she still hadn't received any texts or emails from V. It was sixteen hours earlier in Los Angeles so calling Jill to ask for advice was out of the question.

After drying her hair, Madli slipped on her pajamas and tucked into bed. She propped up the room service menu on her chest and leafed through the pages. Surprisingly, there was quite a bit of American food like spaghetti, hamburgers and quesadillas on the menu. Madli was exhausted but wide awake and indecisive about whether or not she should order herself a veggie burger. Ultimately, she settled on taking an Ambien with a mouthful of the complimentary bottled fruit juice provided by the hotel.

It was still too early to call her sister in Chicago so she turned on the television and channel surfed instead. With each click of the remote, her mind inevitably moved closer to thoughts of Luke. It had been months since they had been in touch with one another. Once they had settled their finances from the sale of the penthouse, she had blocked him from her contacts and her WhatsApp messenger. She had even closed her own Facebook and Instagram accounts so she couldn't check his.

Her days of being on social media were over as were her days of owning things. She no longer owned a car and except for a dozen boxes stacked in her father's garage, everything she owned was with her. After channel surfing for about an hour, her thoughts about Luke and their life in Chicago began to fade and she felt the Ambien dragging her under.


End file.
